


You Were Friends Once Before, But It's Not Like That Anymore

by RiverOfFandoms



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Anger, Arguing, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Frustration, I'm Bad At Tagging, Lip Gallagher Being an Asshole, Memories, Mentioned Mickey Milkovich, Misunderstandings, Nostalgia, Reunions, Season/Series 07, Sharing a Bed, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-27 16:31:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16705948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiverOfFandoms/pseuds/RiverOfFandoms
Summary: You were always the odd one out wherever you went, and it definitely didn't help when you became close friends with the blue-eyed mischievous boy from the South Side. But when graduation forced you apart, five years down the road, you finally realized why you stopped being friends. With intentions to fix your friendship, you went back to the Gallagher house, but realized all too quickly that you were about to get a lot more than you bargained for.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> There are both flashbacks and flash forwards but present time is set during season eight, specifically, episode 7: Occupy Fiona. I'm currently close to finishing season eight (Australian Netflix only just gave us season eight, unfortunately) so this is where I am at with the characters, hence why I chose to set it during this time! This kind of thing has been on my mind, though, since season six or seven.
> 
> Just a note to let you know that there is a lot of swearing in this miniseries. I'm sure, as a fan of Shameless, you'd expect that: but just in case, here's your warning.  
> Happy reading & thanks for giving this a go!

You eyed Patsy’s from across the street. The low sun in the sky indicated the early hours of the morning, not to mention all the shift-workers or police officers grabbing their first cups of coffee on their way to work, or the ones grabbing food on their way home from apparent long night shifts. You’d heard that Fiona took over the joint and you smiled at the sight of it looking so lively. You always thought that she deserved something more.

You remembered when it was owned by this guy who could barely keep the place running. Both you and Lip would make jokes about it on your way back to the Gallagher’s place. It was rundown and full of junkies, needles littered the sidewalk and the food never really tasted that great.

You relied on Lip’s judgment for that last part since you could never bring yourself to actually eat anything from there.

The blue-eyed boy flashed in your mind, the memories of high school spent growing up together. Well, at least for the last few years of it anyway. But those last years were crucial and you learned a lot from the Gallagher family. Instead of being ignored at home you were listened to, you would laugh around their dinner table even if you were just having a cheap pizza. Lip would sneak you some beer when Fiona wasn’t looking, because no one batted an eye when Lip drank, but if you did Fiona would kick his ass and say, “Stop corrupting her, she’s gonna make it big some-day.”

You missed Fiona, she was like a big sister to you. She taught you about hard work and family loyalty, not just her but all of the Gallaghers. Except for maybe Frank. He was someone difficult to get used to. The nights he spent half naked passed out on the floor or on the couch, reeking of alcohol. His stupidity and lack of sympathy, or even empathy, boiled your blood. Especially when you knew that it hurt Lip, even if Lip liked to pretend that it didn’t.

You sighed, still holding your bags. You weren’t sure why you came back. These years since moving away for college had been tough and now that was all over and done with, you didn’t know what to do next. You spent a year away from home trying to find your place in the world, but it never felt right. You came back home and sat on your bed and your thoughts immediately went to the life you lived before college. You went through some of your old stuff still in boxes. There were photos of them, wide-eyed and childlike, photos of you too. You had this crappy, old film camera. It did its job, though, and you were always so excited to get the photos developed. You picked up one of the photos delicately and smiled, a baby Liam. He was in a diaper. Lip was holding him, and you remembered that he never knew you were taking the photo until the camera’s obnoxious loud _click_ and the bright flash. He was embarrassed that you had a photo of him with a baby and you were embarrassed that you even took the photo at all. But neither of you mentioned it.

Then, you found your old phone. It was dead, so after some scrambling around through the boxes, you found the charger. When the phone came to life and flashed before your eyes…

You walked down the street. It was still early and the nerves deep in your stomach wouldn’t allow you to even step onto the Gallagher’s sidewalk. You decided to just walk around the block instead, hoping that it would clear your head. Maybe give you some courage. You knew you had to see them, to see him again. It had been too long since you last spoke. Five years.

You sat down on a bench and settled your bags beside you. You looked up from the road and saw a familiar street.

You remembered how devastated and terrified you were when your teacher suggested tutoring. You thought you could make it through high school without having to create any meaningful relationships. Sure, you had friends, as friendly as private-school girls could get, anyway. But tutoring someone meant to go to their house and spend time with them, talk to them and encourage them to study. Get to know them and understand how they work.

You were terrified because your teacher had suggested a boy, the same age, from South Side. Your stomach clenched, and you immediately went to argue with her, but she didn’t like your supposed ‘nonsocial’ behavior, as she put it, and it would be “charity”. Serving. Giving to the poor, helping the needy, all that bullshit. It looked good on your school record and it looked good for the school. There was basically no choice in the matter.

Then when you met Lip, started tutoring him, you realized he didn’t need any fucking tutoring at all. The boy was a genius, a god-gifted genius with a brain so creative and intelligent. You were gob-smacked because you were one of the highest-ranking students in your class. You never did understand why you were placed with Lip but god, if you hadn’t been, who would you be today?

You remembered walking up to their house for the first time. You remembered the screaming contest going on inside between Fiona and Frank, at the time, you were sure someone was being murdered. You were also sure that you had gotten the wrong house. Or at least, you had hoped so.

But then these two boys were walking on the sidewalk towards the house. You hadn’t noticed them yet, instead you were still staring up at the looming house deciding if you could just fake having tutored the boy to your teacher, somehow.

They noticed you, _of course._ You were stupidly wearing your private school uniform in the middle of the fucking street. A navy blazer and a button up shirt with tie, a classic checkered skirt and navy knee socks. If you’d worn an actual target on your forehead instead of the uniform, you might have had a chance.

They laughed at your appearance as they came closer and Lip was close to asking if his brother, Ian, had slipped him some drugs. They stopped close to you as soon as you noticed them, like a deer in headlights you stared at them. To be truthful, you were staring at them because you were scared that they were going to mug you or try and sell you drugs.

They knew that, of course.

Lip nodded at Ian who was already settling into action. Lip stopped right in front of you and eyed you. You eyed his dirty shirt and scuffed jeans and his stare bordered on a glare. Ian crossed his arms over his chest. There was silence, and then Lip said, “You the girl?”

You, again stupidly, said, “Yes.” You were sure they were asking for the tutor.

Lip instantly frowned and turned to his brother, a raised eyebrow. He was counting on you to say ‘no’. He tilted his head and decided to go with it anyway, “The girl with the drugs, right? Coke?” He tried to keep his cool, but it was slipping away, especially when your eyes grew even wider. He felt the laughs in his stomach, but he fought them off as best as he could.

“Wha—what?” You stuttered, backing away from them. “Drugs? Me?”

“Yeah,” Ian continued as Lip bit his cheek. “We’ve been waiting for ages now,” he said, “and we’re getting a little testy. My friend here _especially_ doesn’t like to wait,” he gestured to Lip beside him.

You stumbled back and clutched onto your school bag, “I-I’m not who you think I am.” You stuck your hand into your bag and pulled out your mobile phone, ready to run and dial the police.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure you fit the description.” Ian turned to his brother, “Doesn’t she?”

Lip regained himself enough to speak again, “Ye—yeah. Yeah, definitely. Student, female. She’s got the big ass bag and everything. Must have a whole lot of coke in there—”

You quickly interrupted and backed away from them as they kept coming closer, “I’m just a student! Just a tutor, I came here to tutor, that’s it!” Your voice came off as desperate as you pleaded with them.

Lip stopped in his tracks and looked at Ian, who frowned also and shrugged. Lip turned back to you and eyed your uniform again, you really were out of place. “Tutor?”

You nodded, still uncertain of them.

“For who?” Lip scratched his head and peered up at the house, he never heard anything about Debs or Carl getting a tutor. And no way could Fiona afford a rich kid from the opposite side of town. Besides, it wasn’t like they _needed_ one. They were getting by… mostly. And if they were really struggling, Lip could always squeeze in some time to help them anyway.

You swallowed, “Phillip Gallagher.”

Lip turned back to you and widened his eyes and Ian instantly burst into a fit of laughter beside him, clutching his stomach. Lip couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.

You looked between them, confused but still alarmed. If they were junkies needing their next fix, you needed to get out of there as soon as you could. But the red head was laughing wildly and the other stood there, with an open mouth like a dead fish.

“ _You’re_ here to tutor _me?_ ” He said, gesturing at you and then at himself as if to make things clearer.

You blinked, surprised, “You’re Phillip?”

“What the fuck?” Lip said, he glanced at his brother, but Ian was useless as he laughed even harder. “A fucking tutor from,” Lip stepped closer to you and grabbed your blazer, so he could see the school’s logo, “From a fucking Catholic school. Great. Just what I need.”

You were suddenly alarmed at how close he was to you and how he was touching your blazer. You took a step back from him and in the process, shoved him off your blazer. You glared at him. “Oh, so you think it’s funny to scare the hell out of me, huh? Prey on an innocent person who just happens to be here to _help_ you? Taking time out of my day for free—”

He blinked and interrupted, “For free?” He looked at your angry face, slightly amused. He never thought Catholic girls could fight back.

You frustratingly blew a huff of air out of your nose, “Look, I’m just here because I have to be. It wasn’t up to me.”

“My school never said anything about a damn tutor.”

You sighed and shook your head, “Well,” you started, helpless, “I’m here. I came all this way, I might as well tutor you.”

Ian cracked a grin but didn’t say a word, instead he introduced himself to you and you thought he was particularly handsome. His smile was kind and his hair well kept, then he went on inside the big house that was full of screaming and shouting not too long ago. You guess you were right about finding the correct house after all.

Lip stared at you. He couldn’t understand how the hell this had happened to him. It wasn’t like he was doing badly at school, he himself had tried to tutor students before. There must have been some kind of mix up, he thought.

“So… Do you want me to leave or?”

He swallowed and looked away from you when he realized he was staring too long. It was even more uncomfortable because he realized you had a pretty face, and even though the uniform your school made you wear was both awful and hilarious, he found it kind of hot. Too hot. The short skirt and everything. Even the damn tie. He swallowed, “Yeah, yeah. But call me Lip, no one calls me Phillip.” He made his way to the front entrance, leaving the gate to his house open behind him, “You coming, or what?” He turned to you, and that moment of eye contact left you more confused than you’d ever been in your whole damn life.


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You take a walk down Memory Lane as you think about your relationship with Lip. Memories would have been set vaguely from season one to three.

The first few weeks of tutoring Lip was awkward, to say the least. And kind of scary. You would practically run to their door as soon as you stepped off the train and usually Carl or Debbie would be the ones to let you in. They knew you were concerned about visiting the South Side, everyone who saw you in your uniform (which you kept wearing) knew exactly who you were. News traveled fast.

One day after school, on one of the tutoring days, you stepped off the train like usual, avoiding looking anyone in the eye. You clutched your bag close to you and made your way off the platform and down the steps, it had been one of those days. You were keen to just get this tutoring over and done with. It wasn’t like you disliked Lip, he had grown on you – pretty quickly, too. And his family, although uncertain of you still, were kind of welcoming nevertheless, except Frank. He always went on about how prissy and snobby you were even though you never snobbed anyone. It’d been a couple of weeks since you started with Lip and with every session you could tell more and more that he really _didn’t_ need your help, at all. But you didn’t know what to do about it.

You stepped off the last step and began to make your way over to the Gallagher’s house when you spotted the blue-eyed boy waiting for you not too far from the stairway. He had a comical shirt on and his hair was overgrown and messy, a cigarette stuck behind his ear. He looked tired and a little frustrated, but his eyes lit up when he saw you.

He nodded at you and you followed him in silence to his house. You felt a little better walking with Lip through the neighborhood rather than walking by yourself. It wasn’t like it was a far walk, but you had to admit, everyone and their grandma looked sketchy. Or at least to you.

Lip opened the back door, “Home sweet home.” You walked in and heard Carl shouting at Debbie again.

Ian said hello as he came down the stairs, and then he delved into the kitchen pantry looking for food.

When you reached the dinner table, Lip sat himself down in a chair with absolutely no homework in front of him and you paused.

He rested his legs on top of the table and looked up at you, awaiting orders like usual. Except most days you when you came around, he had some kind of test to study for or an essay to write. You would just go through the study with him until most of it was finished and by then you would be ready to go home. You didn’t really want to stay after dark, especially after dark. This time, there was nothing, except for his smug face and his legs on the table.

You sat down into the chair opposite him, “No homework?”

He shrugged, “We’ve pretty much covered it all for this week.” Lip knew he didn’t need your help, but he figured it was better than hanging out with his siblings. And he needed a break from hanging out with Karen, especially when she got a little more psycho than usual.

“Look…” You sighed, “You don’t even need a tutor.”

“I know,” he nodded his head as he replied.

You felt the heat rush to your cheeks, of course he knew. “So, why didn’t you say anything? Why not tell me to go find some other student?”

He shrugged, “Got used to you coming over, I guess. Besides, you’re more interesting than my homework.”

You raised an eyebrow at him and he just smugly smiled at you. You knew this game, he played it often. He liked to confuse you. Or at least, he enjoyed flirting just for the sake of flirting. It was kind of like a sport to him. Especially when it ended in him banging someone.

You weren’t going to respond to that last comment, “I don’t get it. Why didn’t your school tell you? If you’d known, then maybe you could have told them to pick somebody else.”

Suddenly Fiona came around the corner from the stairway, her hair was a little messy, but her voice amused. “He didn’t know about it because Lip here never opened his letter.” She chucked it onto the table, “It came a few weeks ago.” She went behind the kitchen counter and poured herself a cup of coffee.

You took the letter into your hands briefly. You stared at his school's logo and his name printed neatly on the envelope and when you turned the letter over in your hands, you saw that it had in fact, not been opened. You looked up at him, “Seriously?”

He just shrugged again, “How was I supposed to know?”

“Maybe if you opened it.”

He rolled his eyes, “I don’t need this shit right now.” He swung his feet off the table and he averted his stare to the floor.

“Someone’s in a mood," you said, feeling a little tired yourself. It wasn’t like you ever _wanted_ this either. And coming all this way wasn’t easy. Besides, if he was going to start acting like a dick then you weren’t going to just put up with it.

“Maybe you should just go home,” he said as he eyed you nonchalantly.

You swallowed and ignored the look Fiona gave Lip and ignored his stare too. You pushed the chair out from underneath you and stood to your feet. You began shoving your stuff back into your bag, “Fine.” Then you added, somewhat pissed, but you weren’t exactly sure why, “I’ll get my school to rearrange it, you won’t be seeing me anymore.”

At first, he frowned at you, but you were too busy focusing on your bag. “Good,” he muttered, and suddenly jumped out of his chair. He headed to the fridge and pulled out a cold beer, “I don’t want to have to worry about your Catholic ass saying something stupid to the neighbors and getting yourself killed, anyway.” He knew it was a pathetic jab, but he did it nevertheless, he wasn’t sure why either, all he knew was that he was pissed at you. And confused.

“Well, my _Catholic_ _ass_ can handle it. I’m not some idiot.” You grabbed up your bag and turned in a hurry towards the front door, but Ian came around the corner of the kitchen counter with the pot of coffee. You bumped into him all too quickly and he spilled the pot – most of it soaked you.

“Fuck!” Ian said, managing to rescue half of what was left in the pot, or less.

You stood there, raised arms, your school, button-up shirt completely soaked through with coffee. Thankfully it wasn’t too hot. The others only stared, but what did it was Lip, he stared at you and then started laughing. You were already annoyed at him for being such a dick that day so to be laughed at was just cruel.

But he was only laughing at how much of a klutz you had been.

You glared at him and hid the oncoming tears by rushing out of the back door and onto the street. You weren’t sure how you were going to explain it to your parents, you guessed you would just have to say something about running into someone or whatever. But the tears, you weren’t sure how you’d explain them.

“Y/N!” Lip called as he rushed out of the house to follow you. He immediately felt bad for laughing, especially when he saw your face fall. It was true he was in a bad mood and he let it spoil the time you had together, so when he saw you wide-eyed and embarrassed, he just couldn’t help himself, he’d been sulking all day so when you did something stupid it just made him laugh without even thinking.

You didn’t turn around or stop walking, instead you flipped him off without even looking at him in the eyes.

“There’s no train for a while, you know. You’re just gonna be up there waiting.”

“Better than being near you!” You shouted as you began to climb the stairs, you were absolutely furious at him. You weren’t entirely sure what it was about him, but he was easy to be angry at.

He grabbed onto your arm and you stopped walking. You wiped your face before turning back to look at him. His eyes were softer than before which caught you off guard completely.

“You can’t jut sit out here with coffee all over your shirt.” He said it kindly, unlike the teasing tone he had before. He knew you’d been crying, he could tell by the way you quickly wiped your face before even looking at him. That, and the fact that your eyes were still a little watery.

You sighed, “Thought you didn’t want to have to worry about my Catholic ass anymore.”

He shrugged, “I kinda like to.” He paused before he continued, “And even though I’m a smartass, I need you to motivate me to actually do my homework.”

You rolled your eyes, “Pretty sure you could just finish it within like twenty minutes before handing it in. And still get a high score.”

“Well then, maybe I can teach you my ways instead.”

You shook your head and laughed, “ _I’m_ supposed to be teaching you _._ ”

He held your eyes and you hated how his blue eyes always melted your heart a little. “Can you come back?” He paused and then tried to bargain with you, “We can throw your shirt into the wash and it’ll be good as new.”

You stared at him in silence first, wanting to draw it out as much as possible. Smelling like coffee on the train ride home would suck and your mom would definitely pester you for ruining your shirt. “Can you even wash coffee out of it?”

“Hey,” he said, leading you away from the stairs as you both began to walk back to his house, “We know all the secrets. We’re Southside. Besides, I’m pretty sure Fiona knows how. She practically raised us, and we’ve all come home a complete mess too many times to count.”

You didn’t mind waiting for your shirt to dry. Especially when it meant eating cold pizza and taking secret mouthfuls of beer from Lip’s drink. Only a few times, to be truthful, you’d never been drunk before, so a little was enough. You got to see the Gallagher’s house in the night, when the kids would run-a-muck running around the house and Fiona dished out whatever food she could find in time to go on her date with Steve. Lip promised to look after everyone while she was out, and Fiona said she already asked Kev and V to check on you all anyway. And you got to wear one of Lip’s shirts. Something about that night made you strangely content.

* * *

It wasn’t always easy being friends with Lip, but over the year you quickly became close. The school no longer required you to tutor him, but you still went by their house when you could.

One day though, he looked pretty pissed. And you dared to ask why.

“It’s nothing,” he said, as he sat down on the front steps while the sun began to drop closer to the horizon. He pulled the cigarette out from behind his ear and lit it.

The orange flame lasted only a second.

You leaned on the railing, “There’s nothing wrong with just talking about it.”

“I said it’s nothing,” he blew smoke out as he replied, his eyes on the cigarette in his hand.

You looked at him and he looked at you, and you just had this look on your face that said, _bullshit._ And he knew it. He shook his head and smiled a little, “You got ESP?”

“Maybe.”

He took another drag and blew out the smoke while sighing, “Just Karen, you know? She’s fucking confusing.”

“Right…”

He raised his eyebrows at you.

You rolled your eyes and sat down beside him, “You know how I feel about her.”

“Yeah…” He shrugged, “The sex is great though.”

You laughed and shook your head, “Of course you’d say that,” you smacked him against the shoulder with the back of your hand. “You know, you’re kind of a slut, right?”

“The biggest.”

You only rolled your eyes.

“You jealous?” He challenged, his eyes alight and his smile cheeky. He loved toying with you, and you knew that. You quickly grew used to when he was teasing you. You kind of loved it, but sometimes it got to you. Sometimes it was more than you bargained for.

“No.” You said plainly, “I just don’t get you sometimes.”

He didn’t think you’d say anything else than no. At first you would stutter and argue, then he just got used to one-word answers whenever he tried to push your buttons. But this was different, he could tell by the sound of your voice. He kept his eyes on you, “What do you mean?”

You tilted your head a little and refused to look at him in the eyes. “Doesn’t matter.” You shook your head, your voice abrupt.

He searched your eyes when you finally met them and neither of you said anything. In a way, in that moment, you felt like he knew. You felt as though he could just look into your eyes and read them as plain as day, figure out exactly what you were feeling.

He felt the same, as though you could tell that he fucking cared about you more than anyone he’d ever known.

But all you knew was that he liked to fuck around with people, and even though he had a caring heart, you never thought it would be for you. You stood up all of a sudden, you were both too close for comfort, and it freaked you. You didn’t know what he was thinking but whatever it was it made you nervous, you’d never really seen him look that intensely at you before.

He wished he could have kissed you before you left. But instead, he walked you to the train and watched as it left the station.

* * *

Years went by and Lip always thought about that night you both shared on the front porch, but another night was on his mind even more frequently.

You of course came by the Gallagher’s house on your last night in town. You already had dressed up nicely for your parents and went out to dinner to celebrate your leaving and graduation. The only time they bothered to give you any attention was to celebrate you going away for college, how ironic.

So, when you came to their house, saw the lights on and heard the trashy music, you knew it was going to be a night of getting absolutely fucked. You weren’t that much of a drinker and you never took any drugs, but there had been a few times that you got drunk since meeting the Gallaghers. It was kind of a thing. You rushed up the stairs and didn’t bother knocking before entering, and everyone inside cheered at you when you entered.

“Hey! It’s the other soon-to-be college student!” Fiona cried, raising her glass at you. She wanted to celebrate Lip going to college and figured that you should be celebrated too, especially since she knew that your parents would never let you have a party of your own.

Lip immediately poured you a drink, with a lot more vodka than soda, and passed it to you as you came into the living room. He smiled at you, all knowing. He knew you wanted to get trashed, pissed, smashed—whatever, and he was definitely on board. Especially since this was your last night together before venturing off into the world of adulthood in different college campuses.

You smiled back at him and took a mouthful of the stuff, Fiona didn’t mind as much by now, especially at parties. You danced to the loud music and hooted at Kev who managed a slut-drop for V. Ian had Mickey over and they danced together, already pissed.

Lip pulled you over to him unexpectedly and danced with you, and you laughed your ass off. It was probably the alcohol, but you couldn’t help giggling like a schoolgirl. He twirled you around him stupidly and you couldn’t look away from his eyes.

You drank more and more and danced more and more, and both you and Lip loved every second of it.

Songs flew past, and soon you saw Fiona switch the music. She eyed you momentarily before putting on a slow song and she smiled at the two of you before stumbling into the kitchen with Kev and V. You looked at Lip who looked at you, but the alcohol and the excitement of graduating just took over and you were both slow-dancing in the living room with no one else around. Ian and Mickey had already slinked off somewhere else and the younger kids were god knows where. You liked being close to Lip, and your drunk brain took full advantage of this moment.

He never held you like this and it had been a while since he was this nervous, even if he was a little drunk. His heart beat fast and the feel of you against him didn’t help. When he saw you walk in that night, he already knew you had that stupid dinner with your parents, you liked to complain about them sometimes, but he knew you loved them a lot. Even if they were too busy. So, when he saw you walk in with that dress on, he’d never felt more for anyone else. He didn’t know what it was that he felt, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew you weren’t just a friend, at least to him. You were more, god, so much more than that.

The music ended, completely. There were no more songs playing over the speakers. You figured it meant that the party was over, but when you tried to step away from Lip, he didn’t let you go. Not at first.

You met eyes with him, his brilliant blue ones looking into yours. Your arms were still around his neck and his hands still rested on your back. You remembered this moment all through college, at times in the night when you thought about who you were before. Who he made you to be. You were scared in this moment, you remembered your heart beating so fast that it was almost like you hadn’t a drop of alcohol at all.

“Lip…” You said, unsure. You didn’t know what you wanted to say, it was like you just had to say something to fill the air.

He knew that, too, he knew it was a thing you did whenever you were nervous. He just smiled at you, all-knowing.

You struggled for more words, “I can’t believe tomorrow we’ll be off to college.”

“Y/N,” he started, softly, “It’s going to be okay.”

You shook your head in a moment of sheer panic, “No, Lip, it won’t.” You bit your cheek before continuing, “How am I supposed to get through college without you?” You swallowed as your eyes glanced away from his, “God, I can’t even get through one week without you.”

“It will be okay, I promise.” He squeezed your shoulders in reassurance.

You sighed and closed your eyes, “Can I at least call you and whine about how annoying everyone is?”

He laughed at this, “Only if you promise to make some friends, too.”

You smiled, your eyes still shut tight, it was like you were closing off the world: closing off reality so you didn’t have to process how tomorrow, everything was going to change. “Teach me how to be calm about all of this.”

He shifted slightly and licked his lips, he brought you even closer to him so that your chin rested near his shoulder and he said, “Aren’t you supposed to be the teacher?”

“Hey, we all know that ship sailed a long time ago. Besides, I’m pretty sure I sucked as a tutor.”

“Well then,” he said, “I’m gonna suck too because I’m totally _not_ calm about you leaving, at all.”

You opened your eyes and turned to look at him straight on, and you noticed his once calm features were not so calm anymore. His eyes were worried and sort of sad. “Lip?”

He leaned his face toward yours, your noses touched. Neither of you said anything, you just both closed your eyes and held each other for a moment. He held your face and for a moment, for one single moment, a thought of stupidity crossed your mind and you thought he might kiss you.

Lip thought about it, of course he did. He usually found himself thinking about you like that when he was alone or when he watched you disappear on the train. But he never could do it. Sometimes he thought you might want that but most of the time he thought you didn’t. You were so much more to him and so you deserved more than him, at least, that was his messy logic.

Lip breathed out slowly and opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, but a wild crash in the kitchen forced you both apart in seconds. Lip stared into the kitchen and then cursed under his breath as he headed towards Fiona who had accidentally dropped a bottle of alcohol, which shattered all over the kitchen floor.

You watched Lip run into the kitchen and heard him swearing at Fiona who only laughed at his attempt to help her. You stumbled toward the couch and collapsed into the cushioning, suddenly feeling a little too dizzy. You weren’t sure if it was just the alcohol. You stretched out on your back and stared up at the ceiling as you heard the glass shards being thrown into the trash and Kev complain about having to vacuum up the rest.

When Lip was finished and came back into the living room, he saw you asleep on the couch. He looked at you softly and found a spare blanket for you. He tucked you in and he sat down on the end of the couch. He had so much on his mind, he couldn't stop thinking about the next day. But even though his anxious mind worried him so, sleep soon made him slip away too.

The next morning, you woke up on the Gallagher’s couch. Lip was curled up against you. Even though he’d fallen asleep on the end of the couch, he had managed to find his way into your arms through the course of the night. His arm was slung over your stomach and his head next to yours. He breathed quietly beside you. His hair a mess, his lips pursed sleepily. For a moment, you watched him breathe almost soundlessly beside you.

You’d fallen asleep near each other before, but never quite like this. Never so close, never together, and never after a night like that. It was a bit much and although you wanted to stay here with Lip and forget about the changes coming your way, you knew it would be for the best to leave and get this day done with.

You slowly moved Lip’s arm off your stomach and rolled off the couch. Lip felt your movement and sleepily turned, his hand grabbed your arm before you could go. He was half-asleep and practically unaware of what he was doing, he mumbled in his sleep and you couldn’t help but smile. You leaned in close to him and kissed his cheek softly, you let your lips linger just a moment longer as you silently said goodbye. You left him on the couch and walked toward the station, ignoring the ache in your heart.


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally work up enough courage to confront Lip.

You stood in front of their house, finally. After minutes of wandering aimlessly around the block, you had decided that it was time to see them again. You were surprised that you hadn’t caught sight of them on the street somewhere before rocking up to their house, but you were also grateful that you hadn’t, because now more than ever you were afraid.

It wasn’t like you cut Lip out of your life after moving away for college. It wasn’t like that at all. In fact, it was a huge mistake, a misunderstanding. Things happened, one after the other, and then eventually you both decided that whatever it was you had didn’t exist anymore.

But you found yourself comparing other guys to Lip all the time. You hated it, but it was always that way. You’d date a guy for a while and then he’d dump you or you’d dump him because whatever it was that you were still searching for wasn’t just in any old guy – it was only in Lip. It was only ever Lip.

And Lip never once forgot about you.

You eyed the house, still standing. You wondered who was inside. Your arm ached with the weight of the bags you carried, and so you figured enough was enough, you couldn’t just lurk outside the Gallagher’s home until midnight. You stepped off the familiar sidewalk and walked up to the front entrance but as you crossed through the gate, someone stepped out onto the front porch.

You eyed that someone for too long. Your heart beat in your chest and your eyes widened at the sight of him.

He blinked and tilted his head, “Y/N?”

You nodded.

Ian stepped closer to you with his arms spread wide, “Holy shit,” he hugged you and you hugged him back, “Fuck, Y/N, where the hell have you been?”

You stepped back from Ian and smiled, “Unfortunately, not here,” you mumbled, and couldn’t help but stare at him. “Ian, when the fuck did you grow so tall?”

He grinned, “Here, let me take your bags.” He held out his hand and you passed them to him, thankful for his help. He led you up into the house and you followed cautiously, scared of what could be around the corner. “You hungry?”

You shrugged and said, “I guess…” You eyed the house, it was the same but also not. That was the feeling you got, things were similar but not exact. Of course, South Side would change over five years. Ian would change. So would Fiona, Carl and Debbie, Liam… and Lip. You couldn’t help but swallow the nerves, “Kinda nauseated too, though.”

Ian dropped your bags by the stairs in the living room and looked up at you curiously, “Because… you’re hungry?”

You shook your head.

“Y/N!” Someone shouted, and you looked to the kitchen where the voice came from. It was Fiona, she wore denim shorts and a tank-top, her hair swept up into a ponytail, “It’s been forever, where the hell have you been?”

You smiled at her and walked over to the kitchen to meet her. You hugged her, and she blinked at how different you looked. Of course, you were around about the same height, but you looked older. 22 instead of 17.

“It’s good to see you, Fiona,” you said, still smiling.

Ian had followed you into the kitchen, “Lip’s not home, he’s…” he trailed off, unsure how to put it.

You nodded your head, “Right, uh…”

But suddenly the front door swung open loudly and a pair of feet walked in. You could tell by the thumping that whoever it was, wasn't pleased. It was Lip, but you couldn’t see that yet because you were too close to the kitchen stairs to see around the corner. Lip eyed the bags by the entrance curiously but absent-mindedly before he headed toward the kitchen.

When he entered the kitchen, your breath hitched in your throat.

Lip didn’t even look at you, instead he headed straight for the fridge and said, “Hey, who’s bags are those?” He was all dressed up in a suit and tie, and he looked good. Stressed and sweating, but good. Healthy. His hair was different. You couldn’t bring yourself to even say a word, it was like all logic in you just stopped, all you could do was stare at this man who was once the boy you were friends with. When no one bothered to reply, too caught up in the moment, Lip shook his head when he saw nothing in the fridge and continued, “Nobody go grocery shopping?”

Fiona, who was opposite you, looked between Lip and you for a moment before double-taking, her lips turned into a frown, “Wait, what’s with the suit?”

“Had to be in court today,” he said, and he turned from the fridge and closed the door. He glanced at Fiona and then noticed someone else’s presence in the room, your presence. He caught your eyes carelessly at first. Then, he realized who you were, and he realized you were the answer to his first question. He stared at you and you were suddenly reminded of the first day you met. Just fifteen years old.

But Fiona wouldn’t have it, she was too caught up in this suit-wearing business and the mention of _court._ She walked closer to him, “Court? Why were you in court?”

He wouldn’t look away from you. He couldn’t. He couldn’t understand how you were standing there, actually standing there right in front of him, after all this time. He breathed in and out, steadily. He’d heard Fiona’s words and planned on responding, “Youens.” He said it so calmly and quietly, it reminded Fiona that you were standing not too far away and that you both hadn’t seen each other since you upped and left that morning after.

You couldn’t help but stare back at him.

He was sure you were just some wild figment of his imagination until he saw you blink, and then he knew you really were there, in front of him. He looked at Fiona and Ian and then back to you, “What the fuck?” He finally said. He breathed, shaking his head, “What the fuck is this?”

“Lip…” You started, taking a little step closer to him.

“No,” he said, still shaking his head. He huffed air angrily out of his nose, “Of course… Of course, this would fucking happen today, the cherry on top of a fucking insane day.” He paused, still staring at you, “Why are you here?” He was pissed, he was pissed at you for so much, but he was mostly pissed that you fucking showed up today out of all days. He wanted to scream at you, but he wanted to hold you and it was all too much for him to handle, especially now. Especially after the week he’d had.

You swallowed, “You know why…” Your voice was weak but at least you managed to even say something at all.

“No,” he started, “No, I fucking don’t _know_ why,” he finished firmly but also confused. He was breathing quick and you could tell he was angry at you, “You can’t just… be here, Y/N. You can’t just stand here in front of me without a fucking phone call first. You—”

“Lip, please,” you interrupted. “I know I… I should have talked to you...”

Lip clenched his jaw out of frustration before he replied, “Yeah,” he started, sarcastically, “That would’ve been nice, you know, over these last five years to have heard from you.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

His eyes widened, and he looked at you humorously, with a stunned laugh he said, “Oh yeah, and who’s fault was it then? Mine!?”

“No,” you spoke, calmly, hating that he was suddenly so emotional. You saw it in his eyes and heard it in his voice. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t call you. I just had to come back and see you,” you said, as you took a step closer to him, “when I saw your message, I had to come see you.”

Lip shook his head again, laughing, “Right, and which one of those messages did it for you, huh?” You could tell that he was going to lose it, but you couldn’t stop him. All you could do was take it. His voice was louder as he continued, “How about the one where I said I missed you? How about the message I sent saying how I fucked up and slept with my professor? How she reminded me of you? What about when I told you that I couldn’t get my life together, that I fucked everything up like always! That the first time I truly fucked up was when I let you go without kissing you goodbye first!”

You breathed in slowly and held his blue eyes, his face blurred as you felt the tears, “How about all of them?”

He swallowed down his own tears but it didn’t work as well as he hoped it would, “If it were all of them then how come you didn’t fucking come back sooner!?”

Ian blinked and looked between the both of you when you didn’t respond. You couldn’t, you were afraid of what you wanted to say, what you wanted to tell him. Fiona noticed you struggling and nodded over at Ian, they left the two of you alone in the kitchen to finish your argument; like a screaming match almost, except it was more just letting Lip scream at you. You understood the anger that he felt though, so you let him.

You took another breath and blinked away the tears, “I didn’t see any of those messages, Lip, not until yesterday.”

Anger fell from his face as his features softened, “What do you mean?”

You swallowed, “Do you still have your old phone?” You had figured it out yesterday, when your old phone came to life and you saw all those messages from an unknown number. You didn’t realize who it was at first, but it didn’t take you long.

He frowned and shrugged, “I don’t…” He paused as he stared at the floor. He thought for a moment about what had happened to it, he realized it was still in the house. Without saying a word to you, he ran up the stairs to where he left it last. He found it after rummaging through some old stuff and plugged it in quickly. He didn’t really understand your urgency, but he was close, he had a thought as to why and his heart picked up speed. The phone took a little longer to restart after being dead for so long. But when it finally registered its sim card and number, it suddenly started buzzing repeatedly. He stared at his vibrating phone in surprise, or something close to shock.

He thought back to the day you left, in that single moment. He remembered waking up on the couch after drinking too much, after celebrating graduation and the start of a new adventure. He remembered how you looked in that dress and the way you held him close to you when you danced. When he woke up on the couch and you were gone, he thought that last night was just a dream. That you hadn’t come at all, that he danced alone and only wished you were there, dancing with him. That he only thought he touched you like he did, that he imagined sleeping beside you, only imagined hearing your quiet noises in the middle of the night and feeling your arms around his torso. But he knew that you only left the way you did because you didn’t want to say goodbye.

Lip stared at his phone and it illuminated his skin in electronic light. If he’d known that the next five years would be the way they were, then that morning that you left, he would’ve run down the street in his fucking boxers, half naked, and called out your name. He would’ve got on the fucking train and stopped you from going to your house, stopped you from loading your boxes into your trunk and stopped you from driving away. Just to hug you one last time and tell you a proper fucking goodbye.

You waited downstairs, your phones in your shaking hands.

He jumped off the end of the step, “Those messages… they’re from you?”

“Yeah,” you said, swallowing. “And I never got your messages because… you were messaging my old number.” You held out your hands to him, both your old phone and your new phone sat in each, in case he didn’t believe you, in case he wanted to make sure.

“And you were messaging _my_ old one…” He stood there for a while. It felt long. You remembered how you felt when you realized that Lip hadn’t been ignoring you this whole time. That it was a mistake, a misunderstanding. You both must have gotten new numbers at the same time, you both didn’t bother to see if anyone would try to contact your old ones. You both just assumed that the other didn’t want anything to do with you anymore when there were no responses.

You had told him things too, in those messages. They started out as a simple greeting or asking how college was or how he’d been since you saw him last, how Fiona and the others were doing. When he wasn’t replying you grew disconnected, you were angry. Sometimes you drunk messaged his phone and it seemed he had done it too. You remembered waking up in the early hours of the morning after a night of drinking and going through your phone, seeing your message to him, feeling angry that you were still attached to him after all the time that went past. You were angry that he never replied, still. You hoped he’d see it anyway, even if you regretted sending the message at all. But most of all, you were sad.

And now you realized, he would have felt exactly the same way.

You put your phones down on the table and shoved your hands into your jean pockets, “Lip…” You started but you weren’t sure how you were going to finish your sentence. His name hung in the air between you as you just continued to stare at him. You weren’t sure how he was feeling and to be frank, neither did he. It was all just one big mess.

“I just thought…” He said, he couldn’t look you in the eye.

“I know.” You sighed, closing your eyes. “I thought it too.”

Lip watched you, your eyes still closed. He was reminded of the night you both danced with each other, you closed your eyes then too. He knew why you had then and he knew why you did it now. He smiled. Maybe you both did grow and change over the five years, but you could never change so much so that he wouldn’t be able to recognize the parts in you that made you who you were.

He closed the distance between you both. He pulled you into a hug with your eyes still closed, and you gasped quietly as he touched you suddenly. His hand rested on the back of your head and his other arm was around your back. You hugged him too and your heart raced in your chest at the familiar smell and feel of him.

“I’m so sorry for yelling at you and being such a fucking asshole.”

You held him tighter, squeezed him, to let him know that it was all okay. “It’s okay, Lip. You were hurting.”

“You should yell at me too, then.”

You leaned back from his shoulder and searched his eyes, “It’s no one’s fault.” You smiled at him, “We’re just fucking useless, is all.”

He laughed at this, his hands fell to just wrap around your lower back, “I get that I fucked up, I mean, I’m a Gallagher. But you?” He twisted his mouth in amusement, his blue eyes twinkled, “Thought you’d do better, Y/L/N.”

You opened your mouth and feigned shock, slapping his shoulder. But you couldn’t keep it up and laughed at his response, happy to see him happy.

He nodded over at your bags by the staircase closest to the front door, “You staying here tonight?”

You shrugged, it was almost as if you both could just talk, like old times again, “Ian brought them in for me but I figured I’d just stay in a hotel or something.”

He raised an eyebrow, and then let you go. He began to walk over to your bags, “Yeah, so you’re staying here then.” You smiled after him and shook your head, he was still stubborn as usual.

But just before he reached your bags he stopped and turned back to you, he stared at you momentarily before rushing up to you quickly. You watched him curiously but not for long, as you closed your eyes when you felt his lips against yours.

It lasted only a few seconds, maybe a little more. It was gentle but urgent, and you loved the feel of his mouth on yours. You loved that he touched your face and held the kiss for as long as he could. He stepped back from you and you just looked at him in wonder.

He sighed and nervously brushed his hair back with one of his hands, his eyes darted from the floor to yours, “I just… Fuck, I just didn’t want you to escape again without kissing you, you know?”

You couldn’t help but smile.


	4. Part Four

As Lip lugged your bags to his room (after arguing with him that you could do it just fine), Ian and Fiona dared to come back and talk to you. They must have heard the shouting die down and wondered if things were okay, they beamed when they realized that everything was okay again.

Fiona put on a pot of coffee as you all sat down at the table, odd-colored mugs littered the table-top awaiting to be filled. You sat next to Lip, who couldn’t keep his hands off you. At least, for now, secretly, under the table his hand was on yours.

It was weird to see Carl and Debbie and Liam so grown. It was even weirder to find out that Carl had gone to military school (and planned to go back), that Debbie had a baby girl, that Frank had gotten a job, that Liam was currently in private school with a uniform and everything. Ian, even, although you quickly grew used to his bigger build and taller height, he was a paramedic. You were happy for them all.

It was worse to later find out, after everyone had gone to bed, when you were sitting on the end of Lip’s bed, that he’d been struggling a lot. A _lot_ a lot. It wasn’t worse because of the choices he made, it was worse to know that he’d been struggling this much, and you weren’t around to help him through it. You listened to him tell you everything. College, how he was kicked out for sleeping with his professor, how he drank and drank, how he was trying to sober up. You listened and took every new piece of information in with an open heart. You loved Lip. Not just romantically, that was different. It was more than that. You’d been friends and family, too, not just almost lovers. Nothing he could say would ever make you stop loving him, and you made sure to tell him that, right there on his bed.

You both made a pact, that night. Actually, you started it. When he told you that he was so glad you came back to him but couldn’t start anything serious until he was sober longer, you told him you would wait. You made a promise.

You both remembered back to one night in the past, you must have been fifteen or sixteen years old. You were up on Lip’s bed, back when he shared his room with Ian. You were lying on your stomach, your feet in the air, and Lip was leaning against his pillows with a cigarette sitting between his lips. The window was cracked open to let the smoke out. It was a colder night than now, but it wasn’t too cold that you couldn’t leave the window open just for a bit.

“Y/N?”

You looked up from your phone at him, his messy, curly hair disheveled and his blue eyes tired. You smelled the smoke on him, it didn’t bother you too much. Usually you let him smoke by himself, but on nights like those, you just didn’t bother to wait until he was done. “Yeah?”

“We’re like…” He coughed a little, and took the cigarette from out of his mouth so he could speak clearly, his eyes darted to yours nervously, “We’re friends, right?”

You blinked, surprised. You never really thought about it. You never really thought about if you were friends or if you weren’t, you just assumed that that was what happened. You nodded your head and said, “Well, yeah, I guess. That’s what I thought, anyway. Why, don’t you think so?”

He smiled a little as he lifted the cigarette that was in between his fingers closer to his mouth, “No, I thought so too. Just occurred to me how weird it is that I’m friends with a Catholic school-girl.”

You rolled your eyes, “Not this again,” you muttered under your breath.

“What?”

You pursed your lips, “I mean, what about me? Yeah, it’s weird for you, but hey, I’m the one with the reputation.”

He paused and frowned at you, “What?”

“You heard me,” you put your phone back down again on top of his sheets. “I’ve got everything to lose, you don’t.”

He stared at you, his eyebrows pulled into a confused frown. You stared back, as if it was a staring contest. He tilted his head at you and you saw a flicker of realization cross his blue eyes, and he started to shake his head. You smiled.

“You’re a fucking liar, you know that?” He said, ditching his smoke into an ashtray he kept by his bed. “One fucking huge liar.” He grabbed you suddenly and began tickling you as punishment, he knew how much you hated to be tickled.

“Lip!” You squealed, “Lip, fucking stop!” You managed in between laughs as he kept tickling you further. You were still lying down but he was on his knees, looming over you as he kept going with a big smile plastered on his face. You hated being tickled, so you kicked out your leg at him and he stopped.

“Shit, Y/N, you wanna kick harder next time?” He held his abdomen while looking at you but he was too amused to be properly mad.

You opened your mouth, “Uh, it was self-defense!”

“I was tickling you, _tickling_ you!” He argued as he sat back on his legs, “Not beating you up!”

You pouted your lips at him and stared, but he refused to give in. You said, “Just don’t tickle me, then.”

He half-grinned, “Yeah, I got the memo with that kick, thanks.”

You frowned harder at him, “You have to promise me.”

“What?” He said, acting dumbfounded, as if it was tragic to give up on tickling you ever again.

“Lip.”

“Y/N.”

You frowned even harder, if it were possible to, “ _Lip._ ”

“Fine,” he sighed, “I promise not to tickle you. Besides, if you’re gonna injure me like that every time, it’s not even worth it.”

You smiled at him and then got on your knees as he watched you carefully. You edged closer to him and he started, “What are you—” But it was no use, you pounced on him and tickled him, _hard_. You were sitting on top of him and he squirmed underneath you, laughing so much you thought he might cry.

“Hey, hey, _hey!_ ” He said, in between laughing, “Not fucking fair!”

“Tables have turned, Gallagher!”

You smiled at the memory of attacking Lip with tickles on his bed, you shared it with Lip and he laughed. He’d remembered it, too, just as you did, but hadn’t said anything. It was funny that you both remembered it in the same moment, though.

Instead he complained about you kicking him in the gut and you said that he deserved it. He said he might have but he definitely didn’t deserve the tickle-attack afterwards, especially since he couldn’t tickle you back. You shrugged and said, “Must have been the rebellious Gallagher effect on me.”

He shook his head, “So, this is okay?”

“Hm?”

“Waiting.”

You went closer to him. Leaned against his headboard too and turned to look at him beside you, “I’ve waited this long, Lip. Another 6 or so months is nothing.”

“You’ll stick around though, won’t you?”

“I’ll visit you all the time, just like I did in high school.”

He sighed out of relief, “I wish I didn’t have all this other shit to deal with.”

“I’m glad you are dealing with it rather than keeping it bottled up.”

He smiled at this, softly, “Guess we won’t be able to have a beer together out on the front porch like old times.”

“Fuck beer and fuck alcohol, I’m just glad you didn’t accidentally kill yourself by being off your face, Lip.”

He touched your hand, “So am I…” You glanced at both of your hands sitting on top of the mattress.

“And fuck it,” you said, turning to look at him again, “who needs alcohol?”

He frowned briefly before sporting a confused grin, “What do you mean?”

“If you’re not drinking anymore then neither am I.”

He blinked, “You’re serious?”

You nodded.

“You don’t have to, Y/N, I…” But he couldn’t say anything more because his heart warmed at the sight of you. At the sight of you on his bed, at the sight of you promising this to him, at the sight of you waiting for him, at the sight of you wanting to be supportive. “Fuck,” he breathed. He kissed you again even though he wasn’t really supposed to. His hand touched your neck and then your face and then your waist in need of you, and you melted completely into him. It was only the second time, but it felt like the millionth, but it also felt like the first time all over again. It was confusing, but it was magical. “ _Fuck_ ,” he groaned as you broke apart.

“It’s okay,” you whispered.

He was still close to you, his nose touching yours, his hands on your face keeping you there, close to him, “No, no, it really isn’t, Y/N, because if I could I would—”

“Not yet.” You said, firmly, but you couldn’t look away from him.

“Not yet.” He repeated.

You told him it would be best if you stayed in another room and he reluctantly agreed, he kissed you one last time and you told him that he couldn’t anymore and he knew you were right. He just couldn’t help himself. But now, as he lay in his bed and waited for sleep, he knew that he just had more motivation to see this thing through.

And he did.

It wasn’t easy. There were times where he wanted to drink so bad, but he knew to just think of you and only you. He would run or work or call you. He would keep up with his sponsor. He would meet up with you only on days when the need to drink was a little less frequent.

You stayed friends although there were times when you almost crossed over. It was hard for you, too. Not the not drinking part, you never were as much of a drinker. And you knew that it would only help Lip. But the wanting to hold him and kiss him and tell him that things were going to be okay: that was hard to stay away from.

But in time, things worked. They changed. Lip was strong and when he was sober almost nine months, you were beginning to get to know each other all over again.

The sun filtered in through the curtains in the early hours of the morning. You blinked your eyes open and glanced around the room. You were only a little confused at your whereabouts, but when you felt the familiar rise and fall of Lip’s breathing chest beside you, you were instantly calmed.

His hair was a mess, like usual. But his arm was around you and his face only inches away. You loved waking up a little earlier than he in the morning because when you got to see him asleep, it reminded you how good things were in your life. The Gallagher house was usually chaotic with noise but for some reason, on this morning, it was peaceful.

“Mm,” he groaned, sleepily, and opened one eye to look at you, “whatchu lookin’ at?”

“Your sleepy face.”

He wrinkled up his nose and closed his eyes again as he turned onto his back, “Making me blush.”

You giggled and touched his face softly, “I love your cute, pink cheeks.”

“Stop.”

“Your messy bed-hair.”

“Y/N.”

“Your croaky morning voice. Oh, and how you can never really open your eyes fully until you’ve had some coffee.”

He turned to you again, only one eye open, “I love you.” And he meant every syllable, every vowel, every consonant.

You smiled at him, your hand was on the side of his face again. His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you even closer to him and he kissed you, gentle. “I love you,” you whispered in between those messy kisses, “Lip.”


End file.
